All the Pretty Little Lights
by babybluecas
Summary: It's high time Dean puts up the lights and brightens their home for Christmas.


Colorful strings of lights line Dean's way home. On both sides of the road, the houses boast their twinkling rooftops and sparkling shrubs, as Rudolphs with their red noses remain frozen mid-gallop on their lawns.

Where the hell did they come from, all at once?

Or have they been here all along…? They must have been. It's been December for quite some time now. Dean kinda sucks at keeping track of time, these days. And of his surroundings, it seems, flashy and vibrant as they are.

All the way from work, through the good old suburbs of Cicero, there ain't a single household that wouldn't try to light up the streets brighter than the streetlamps do.

No, that's not true. Dean purses his lips as he rides up the driveway of the sole gloomy house in all of Indiana. How did that overlook happen he doesn't know. He doesn't wanna know because it's probably all on him.

Though all Lisa had to do was ask. She's not usually one to treat Dean like he's a cracked egg, one wrong word away from collapsing and making a mess.

But then, it's almost Christmas, and Christmas tends to make people more breakable, if Hallmark movies ever taught Dean anything.

He locks the car and lifts his head up to the shape before him, to the lack of decorations so stark in the middle of the mini Christmastown around. Depressing's what it is. As if a dark cloud decided to reside over this rooftop in particular—or under it.

This won't do. This isn't what Lisa's home is—when all it's ever been is warmth and safety and light—and he can't be the one who made it that way. Dean imagines, every year, until now, wherever Lisa lived, the place sparkled as bright as any, on the very first day of the month.

He's gotta do something about it, so instead of going inside, Dean opens the garage door. He switches the light on and passes by the beloved shape in the middle, hidden beneath a stretch of a tarp. There, by the opposite wall, are cardboard boxes they moved from the old house without unpacking.

Dean goes for the nearest box, opens it and takes a quick peek, then closes it right away. He repeats it with the next one and the next. Anything more would feel like digging into Lisa's life without her knowledge or consent. All he wants are the Christmas lights. They have got to be here somewhere.

"What are you looking for?"

Dean turns to find Lisa, standing in the garage door, her arms crossed, her cheeks flushed from the cold air, watching him for who knows how long. She must have just gotten back from afternoon classes because there's her bag sitting at her feet.

"I figured it's high time I put up the lights."

Lisa nods, a small smile on her lips. "Try the one that says 'Christmas'," she offers.

Dean furrows his brow and lowers his gaze to find the writing on the side of the box. Well, this will sure make things easier. He locates a quite sizeable 'Christmas' box and peeks inside. There are the lights, alright. Along with some other ornaments and a little dried up wreath—and who knows what else underneath all that.

"I'll test them out, you grab the ladder," Lisa says, taking over and Dean does as he's told.

He brings the ladder to the front corner of the house and sets it on the ground. It's a damn miracle it hasn't snowed in the last few days. He might be currently making a living off climbing on roofs but he sure as hell wouldn't want to test his skills out on slippery footing.

"Just—please don't slip and fall," Lisa says as if reading his mind when she hands Dean a coil of lights he throws over his shoulder. He saw a glimpse of their flickering as she plugged them into the wall. They're gonna look great up there.

Dean grins, playfully. "Why? You won't catch me?"

"Nope. It's between you and gravity," she jokes, but something about the smile on her lips and that soft look in her eyes tells Dean she'd sure as hell try.

Dean pretends a great offense for a second. "I'd better not fall, then."

He double-checks the ladder's stability and climbs up on it until he can comfortably reach the roof. They decided that just the edge of the roof over the porch is fine, which is a relief because Dean'll take not climbing up to the rooftop over climbing any day.

Dean's new vantage point allows him a good view of the neighborhood. Even if Dean's not that into all the suburban Christmas craze, he has to admit—it's a little breathtaking.

"I'm surprised we haven't got any angry letters yet, for non-compliance," Dean jokes and under his breath, he adds, "or a Tulpa." He's seen the suburban episode of The X-Files, alright? He knows how it goes.

He regrets the idea right away. Even thinking about any kind of creepy-crawly on their street hits way too close to home. Thank god, Lisa didn't hear that part.

"What kind of suburbs do you take this for?" she asks.

"Are there any other kinds?"

Lisa snorts and Dean can practically hear her rolling her eyes, but his gaze is fixed on the plastic hook that's supposed to keep the lights in place. It takes a little effort to make those collaborate, but once he gets a hold of it, the rest goes rather smoothly.

Though it's cold, Lisa keeps him company, chatting up as he pins the lights, hops down the ladder, moves it and climbs up, rinse and repeat. She only disappears for a moment, as he nears the other end of the roof but is back as soon as Dean carries the ladder back in the garage.

"Alright, let's see it," Dean says.

Lisa, with big ceremony, plugs the lights into the extension cord.

A neat line of color along the roof's edge lights up the house. It's not much, but it's better than nothing. Better than darkness. And for the moment, it feels like enough.

"It looks good," Lisa says, the sparkles of light reflecting in her eyes. "You did pretty good up there."

"Of course, I did," Dean says, humbly. Still, he feels like maybe he should do more. "I'm thinking, if we got more lights, we could put them on—"

"How about we do that tomorrow when it's a little warmer?" Lisa cuts him off, her gloved hand grasping Dean's bare palm—he didn't even realize how cold he is. "I'm sure Ben'll be happy to help us out."

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," Dean says, so ready to go into the warmth of their home.

He takes a last glance at his work, feeling really damn good about it, before Lisa pulls him towards the porch. The front light flicks on as they approach it, welcoming them and Lisa takes suspiciously long searching for the keys in her pockets.

"I got this," Dean says, rolling his eyes, but before he reaches for the lock, something catches his attention.

Above their heads, there hangs a small, dangly bouquet of ribbons and green leaves—way too healthy-looking to have spent lasted the entire year. Unless—

"Is that…a fake mistletoe?" Dean asks, amused.

Lisa's eyes drop, shyly. "Yeah, I found it in the box and thought it'd be funny. I could buy a real one tomorrow."

"Hmm, hold on," Dean murmurs, cupping Lisa's cold cheek with his hand. "Let me check."

He leans to land a kiss on Lisa's lips, a little sticky from her honey chapstick, but he doesn't mind. Lisa reciprocates the kiss, pulling him in by the front of his jacket. Their kiss is soft, tender rather than passionate, but it's enough to forget for a moment about the cold, the neighborhood, the darkness that used to envelop their house.

"As I thought," Dean says when he breaks away, a wide grin on his face, "this one works just fine."


End file.
